My brother died, and I remember . . .
“today you are proud and so very eight, already your hugs have begun to feel more like a man’s, kindly and often, suddenly more for me than for you…”
Modern life rarely affords enough time to choose both experience and appearance. I’m trying to remember to choose experiences first, when I can. Even if that sometimes means just staying out of life’s way.
“Even if no one is listening, the children will still run down the halls of the morning dragging themselves into coat and scarf, outgrowing everything learned except that life is a gift that looks different to every person with eyes like windows into the cosmos…”
If youth is wasted on the young, what’s to stop the rest of life from being wasted on the living?